Page 2 of Dreamboat

His smile widens even more. “Thanks, Delia.”

I sip my champagne while he looks me over. “My shift is over at eleven. We could meet up for more champagne if you want.”

“I’m thirty-one,” I blurt out for some reason.

Clever nods. “Good to know, but age is only a number. Let’s just say I showed some magic to a passenger celebrating her forty-eighth birthday last week, and she’s already booked herself in to sail my way again.”

I can’t help but smile. “I’ll pass on the private magic show.”

“I get it.” He glances toward two women chatting it up near us in this piano bar. “You’ve got someone special waiting for you at home, right?”

I’ve got an empty apartment and a monumental decision waiting for me at my home in Manhattan.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be around,” he promises with an exaggerated wink of his left eye. “A cruise is a place to toss your inhibitions into the sea. No one will know what you do on this ship.”

I contemplate those words as I sip more champagne.

He steps toward me as if he’s going to brush past me, but as soon as he’s beside me, I feel his breath tease the shell of my ear. “Or who you do, beautiful.”

With that, he wanders off.

I finish my bubbly and twirl in a circle, searching for a spot to leave my empty glass.

That concern evaporates as the champagne flute slips from my hand to shatter into a million sharp shards on the polished tile floor.

I gasp, and it’s not from the glass raining down on my open-toed sandals.

Standing less than two feet from me is Dr. Donovan Hunt.

He’s one of the busiest veterinarians in New York City. His smile can and has stopped plenty of traffic, and he’s been the star of many of my fantasies since I first realized he existed.

He also happens to be my older brother’s boss, and before this moment, a virtual stranger to me since we’ve never officially met.

“Delia Hawthorne.” My name comes out of him wrapped in a low growl that sends my imagination into overdrive. “Let me get you out of here.”

I don’t bother asking how or when that’s happening because he answers both silently when he stalks toward me.

The glass crunches under his black dress shoes. I pull my gaze up to notice the dark blue pants and white button-down shirt he’s wearing. It’s open at the collar, revealing just the right amount of tanned chest beneath.

Just as he lifts me into his arms like a bride, he smiles. If that’s not enough to overwhelm my senses, the scent of his cologne hits me and it’s intoxicating.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that all eyes on this cruise are on you,” he says, his voice a decadent treat to my ears. “You’re the most stunning woman here.”

I pinch my arm to make sure this isn’t another of the wine-fueled dreams I often have after I study the pictures on his social media profiles before bed.

“Are you all right, Delia?” Clever suddenly appears out of nowhere. “Your toe is bleeding, so you need to see the ship’s doctor.”

I don’t look for evidence of that myself because the sight of blood makes me queasy.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, holding back from asking him to disappear like a good magician would. “It’s nothing.”

Dr. Hunt stops to assess my foot with a glance toward it. “I believe it’s the ship’s policy for any injured guest to be looked at by a doctor. You should have it checked out.”

I want to suggest he do the checking since he is a doctor, but I’m well aware that his patients generally have four legs and are covered in fur, feathers, or scales.

“I can take her from here.” Clever holds out his arms as if he’s waiting for a big bag of potatoes to be dropped into them.

“I’ve got her,” Donovan assures him. “Tell me where to find the doctor.”

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